


two birds

by 2dsgirl



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:41:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12899364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2dsgirl/pseuds/2dsgirl
Summary: A forest bird never wants a cage.





	two birds

Running, running, running. He ran faster than ever before, his legs burning beneath him. He felt his muscles on the verge of giving up but he pushed his body farther, the clinking of knives being thrown at him growing distant. His own pulse screamed in his ears and after only a few more miles he felt his legs falter as they met with the thick tree branch; he slipped, plummeting back down to the ground. He forced himself to land carefully, as to not break anything, only bruises and scrapes. A scream of pain bubbled behind his lips but he covered his mouth with his hand to stifle it, scurrying behind the closest brush.

 

His vision was distorted; hardly even one-hundred-eighty degrees around him was visible. The veins around his eyes felt as if they’d burst any moment, his head pounding as he held his breath. He kept his head on a swivel, hyper alert but also fading into exhaustion at the same time. Each moment was a lifetime that passed in front of him, his assailants no longer dotting his vision. A few minutes passed and he let out his breath. It burned deep in the back of his throat, his lungs unable to gasp for a large enough breath. He knew he was going to pass out any moment, and in his last conscious seconds he hid himself in a grove of trees, covering himself with as much dirt and mud as possible before succumbing to the emptiness of unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight peeks through the canopy overhead, kissing the little of Neji that’s exposed beneath his makeshift camouflage. A groan escapes his lips before he comes to his senses; he’s being watched, tracked, hunted. He carefully and quietly adjusts himself beneath the cover, giving himself a better view of his surroundings in the daylight now. He focuses his chakra, but his byakugan is weak, a sharp pain stabbing directly behind his eyes. He closes them, covering his face with his hands as he digs at his eyes, trying to fight the irritation.

 

Neji stays put- not because he wants to but because his right ankle is clearly fractured, if not broken, a pain he hadn’t felt last night. His skin is bruised a purple so dark it’s almost scarlet, and his ankle is bigger than his thigh.

 

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly, sitting with his right leg stretched out in front of him. He assesses the damage; his right ankle is clearly going to need professional attention, but judging the thick cover of trees surrounding him, Neji is at least ten miles from the nearest village, and with how low his chakra is, he might as well not even _have_ the byakugan. He’s vulnerable, unable to detect his enemies and unable to move. The panic sits on his chest, slowly but surely pushing him underneath as he desperately tries to plan his next move. What was the plan at this point, though?

 

Hiashi is perfectly well, probably gathering the strongest shinobi in Konoha at this very moment to hunt Neji down. Hinata is fine as well, not that she was a target; Neji somewhat regrets putting any amount of trust in her, especially considering the slow waves of pain melting over him originating from the center of his forehead. The thought of the pain reminds him of the forehead protector still tied around his head; he slips it undone, rubbing his fingers across the cold metal. There’s a deep slash through the Leaf emblem that reminds him of the rogue ninja he’d seen on S-rank missions; a damnation. He stares at the headband for seemingly hours (for all he knows it may well have been; there’s no time in the forest), conflicted on what to do with the piece of fabric that held more sentimental weight than anything else he owned.

 

 _You’re a traitor_ , he thinks as he begins to tie it back around his forehead. He lowers his hands just as he’s about to tie it for the seventh time, wondering what it means to wear the headband he worked so hard for now. If he wears it, he bares the mark of traitor, but if he leaves his forehead exposed? Well that’s infinitely worse, Neji decides, finally tying it around his head for sure.

 

After finding a broken branch he could support himself on, Neji began to slowly set off. He feels the exhaustion pump through his veins, every step heavy like lead as he pushes himself forward. He gauges his whereabouts; completely surrounded by dense, thick forest, he figures he’s at least a few hours away from the village. He feels the moss growing on the bark of the trees, cool and soft on his fingertips. _North,_ he thinks. _North is the Land of Sound, or the Land of Frost._ Neji knows the Land of Sound is off limits. He may be a traitor but he isn’t a fool- Orochimaru’s village of failed experiments and abominations to God wasn't where he wanted to go. The Land of Frost was a humble area, if he remembered correctly; rarely involved in wars or any sort of battles. He decides to head north, knowing that he’d be safer in a less conspicuous area, especially one the Leaf didn’t have strong ties with.

 

Every step forward is agony though; his ankle screams out underneath him, a high pitched ringing in his ear. He slows his pace even more, his breathing loud and labored as he moves onward. The forest air kisses his mud-caked skin, cool and inviting as pale sunlight filters onto him; it feels good. Neji accepts his slow pace and continues, hoping to find a stream or river soon. The caked on dirt, mud, and leaves itches all over him, unbearable if he focuses on the sensation too much.

 

He focuses on something else; the fresh memory of standing over his uncle’s sleeping body, knife in trembling hand, breath held. The lights clicking on, the tiny gasp from Hinata, and the impulsive formation of a seal from her fingers. _Pain, pain, pain._ The memory fades here, and doesn’t pick up until just about where he is now. Neji wonders who’s looking for him. If the hokage sent out Anbu, or if Hiashi is leading the team to hunt him down, or his worst fear; his own teammates. It’s not out of the realm of possibility, considering the amount of times Naruto and Sakura were sent out once Sasuke left the village. Neji chuckles to himself at the thought of the lone Uchiha survivor; he’d called him a fool for leaving the village years ago, for seeking out a power that was so clearly just going to spit him out dead. Now here he was, a rogue just the same. At least Sasuke had a reason to leave, someone to run to. Neji was aimless and lost now, a wanderer at best. It was just him and the endless questions that have haunted him since the day his father was praised as a hero for sacrificing himself. _For the clan,_ he thinks. Even the thought is venomous, biting at his conscious.

 

Neji _knew_ his father was happy to die for the clan. Happy to finally be useful, to protect the precious kekkei genkai, to be a hero. To live out the legacy a thousand branch members had before him, and a thousand more will. The idea never made sense to Neji though. Even when he was young and devoted himself to his “destiny,” he never _wanted_ to serve the main Hyuuga branch. He knew there was something wrong with turning four years old and being burned with a curse mark where the whole world could see and being told his life was no longer his. A life of servitude, of hoping, _praying_ to be used by a main branch member. Disgusting.

 

As the sun rose higher the forest grew hot, sticky, oppressive on Neji as he slowly continued north. Insects swarmed him every few steps, his hair clung to the back of his neck, sweat beading on his forehead. He wished he had thought his plan through more at this point; he didn’t have a backup if Hiashi living was the outcome. In all honesty, he didn’t even have a plan if he’d _succeeded_ in killing his uncle. He’d still be seen as a traitor to his own clan, as well as his village, which wasn’t different than where he stood now. Guilt and regret chewed away at Neji’s chest, gnawing like termites. He wasn’t regretting the overall _idea_ of killing Hiashi; just his poor planning and judgement. There was no doubt in his head that Hiashi more than deserved to die, poetically at his nephew’s hand.

 

But all that was gone now. Hiashi was alive and Neji no longer had a home, or anything else for that matter. No home, no family, no team. Gai, Tenten, and Lee come to mind.

 

He imagines their faces upon hearing the news. He wonders who told each of them. A fellow jonin probably told Gai, and he in turn told his teammates. Neji doesn’t like the idea of Lee being woken up to hear that his boyfriend of three years tried to assassinate the head of his own clan _and_ has fled the village. He imagines the angry tears, the tight curl of his fist, his shaking lower lip. The lips he’d kissed a thousand times but didn’t feel he needed to explain himself to. A strong wave of guilt hits Neji.

 

Then there’s Tenten. Her hair long, undone when she’s woken up. He imagines Gai and Lee are there to tell her, his sensei’s voice cracking as the words stumble out. Do they all hug each other and cry? He isn’t sure if Tenten would cry; he’d only ever seen her shed tears once, and he’s not allowed to speak of it. He knows she’s pissed, _beyond pissed_ , at him. Especially because she’ll see how hurt Lee is, and she’ll see Gai’s quivering lip as they head to the hokage’s office to discuss the next move.

 

Gai Sensei is the worst to imagine, but Neji is trapped with himself in the forest until he reaches the river he can hear about a mile away. Gai was the father Neji had stolen from him; he was honestly better than his real father. Always there to make him better, to reassure him on the days he couldn’t stop staring into space. To tell him it was okay to still be mad, to still feel the aching hole where his father left him. To tell him he was proud.

 

And this is how Neji repaid all the people who loved him. Running like a fool into the night with a truly idiotic scheme, and not even being able to accomplish his goal. And as if that wasn’t enough, he _left._ Without a goodbye, without an explanation, without an “I love you,” (Neji wasn’t big on those three words though, anyway).

 

As empty as he feels, he knows his teammates must feel infinitely emptier. The topic of Neji’s real feelings about his clan rarely came up; ever since he almost killed Hinata in their chunin exams, he decided it was best to be quiet about the whole situation. Lee wasn’t exactly the best person to discuss overthrowing an oppressive clan with, anyways. That man _bled_ the Hidden Leaf. He devoted his heart and soul to the village, no questions asked. Neji wished he could be like that; naive and happy to go with what he was taught as a child. Lee never understood why Neji would at times go off about wanting to travel the world, about leaving for something else. He had no reason to understand though, since Konoha was home sweet home for Lee. Neji really wished he could be like that.

 

Soon enough the edge of the river flows before Neji, cool and promising. The forest is still thick, and with what chakra he can muster up, his byakugan tells him he’s safe for the moment being. He strips down and sits in the water; it’s cold, but as he scrapes away the dirt and mud it’s heavenly. He lays back and floats for a few moments, his long hair finally unsticking from his skin. His hair is a nest at this point, infinite branches and twigs matted with mud in it. He sits up and begins to wash all the grime out, the aching from the center of his forehead finally beginning to dull. Once he’s finally clean and the river has taken all the dirt with it, flowing away, he gets up to clean his clothes as well. The white linens are now a mix of mud and grass stains, blood and sweat. He scrubs at them with the smoothest stone he can find, but the reminders don’t lift, just become a bit duller. He notices countless rips and tears as well, and since he didn’t exactly pack a bag for his trip, they won’t be fixed anytime soon. Once his clothes are as clean as they’ll be, he hangs them to dry on a low tree branch. He surveys the area quietly; he’ll be safe for now, at least until his clothes dry.

 

Neji is woken up by a mosquito the size of his fist sitting on his bare stomach. He screams, rising so fast he almost forgets his broken ankle. Almost. He screams louder at the pain shooting from his right side up, falling back to the ground. He curses to himself and drags himself back to river; it’s getting dark now, the sun kissing the horizon. He soaks his ankle for a long time, the pain still throbbing through him. Eventually he rises, limping over to the tree to grab his clothes; he slips off his underwear and pulls on his pants, then limps back to the edge of the water to wash them. He hangs them on the tree branch and falls to the ground once more, the pain in his ankle forcing him down. He decides to let sleep overcome him, the exhaustion of traveling on a broken ankle for almost twenty four hours hitting him. A dreamless slumber washes over Neji, calm and cool as the river quietly babbles to him.


End file.
